


i don't know (where to put my hands)

by singsungie



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, letter format, pretty short but i might continue it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsungie/pseuds/singsungie
Summary: Jisung can't sleep, so he writes to the one person that's been plaguing his mind.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54
Collections: MINSUNG BINGO: Round One





	i don't know (where to put my hands)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is a super quick and short fill for the minsung bingo! [ @minsungbingo ](https://twitter.com/minsungbingo)  
> the tropes from my bingo card are- **AU - Soulmates** and **Epistolary format** (which I used here to mean letter ^^)!  
> A quick explanation about the au: here the name of your soulmate is written on the place where they'll touch you for the first time, and you can kind of feel a burning sensation there whenever you're near then, which is how Jisung knew. (if you have any questions, please don't be afraid to ask!) yeah. idk i wrote this very fast so i hope it makes sense ahaha  
> Anyway, enjoy!

Dear Minho,

In life, one can be certain of many things, yet that doesn’t necessarily make them true. Do you understand what I’m getting at?

Well, I suppose that doesn’t really matter now... Let me start at the beginning.

The first time I saw you, it was already dark. I guess that doesn’t say much, considering we were in the depth of the winter, and the sky darkened before night really came. You know, I still can perfectly feel it—the harsh wind against my freezing cheeks, the heaviness of my coat, the tremble that just wouldn't stop. The smell of snow and cold, settling deep in my lungs.

And then there were you, smiling and laughing. You set my insides aflame with your bright eyes on mine. My wrist burned too, but the delicious pain was of a different kind, and I savor the memory of it still.

I think you must have felt it too; I saw the way your face lit up, lips going slack in the middle of a word. You must have excused yourself, must have ran after me, leaving her behind.

I hope you did.

I didn’t see it, because I was already walking away.

I’m sure you’re eager to know why—was it some deeply settled fear, an overtaking anxiety, last-second cold feet? You never did catch up with me. You never questioned me about it afterwards.

No, Minho, I wasn’t scared or worried. I had made up my mind a while ago, and I knew it wasn’t the time yet.

I guess it was one of the things I was so certain about; that this isn’t how it was meant to happen, that I… no, that _we_ had to wait. For that perfect moment, for that fairy-tale ending. Or beginning, I suppose.

Ah, well, actually I lied to you. That wasn’t the first time I saw you, though I’m sure it was the first time that you saw me too.

The real very first time was way earlier, back when trees had just started to drop leaves on the ground. It was a beautiful day, the sun high in the open sky, the breeze pleasant with its coolness. We were in a park. I had my friend’s dog with me, and you had that girl. She was just as beautiful as the scenery. You were even more. And my heart hurt very much when you kissed her, but I suppose that’s just how it is sometimes.

It's summer now. The sky outside is dark; I can smell the heat through my open window, can see the lone moon grinning at me. Lately, it’s so hard to sleep on nights like these, when I feel so restless and alone, and my wrist keeps burning with the ghost of your touch. I always end up writing to you; maybe this time you’ll see this. I don’t know yet.

Minho. It’s a pretty name. I like it. You know, when I was a child, I used to wonder what kind of person would carry mine, how it would sound on their lips. I used to whisper yours late into the night, hoping you were out there, doing the same.

It was strangely easy to find you; we don’t go to the same school, yet sometimes I would see you in my train, getting out in the same stop. I was always careful to not let you see me, and I think I should apologize for that. But it just didn’t feel right, bumping into you in such a crowded place, the breathing of others hot on the back of our necks, their shoulders and elbows pushing into us as they hurry past. Meeting your soulmate is such an intimate and sacred moment, don’t you think? It deserves some kind of privacy. At least I think so. I hope you agree.

Anyway, that’s how I figured we were living in the same neighborhood, and then all it took was just a few walks around the block to see you entering a house. I think it’s yours—it’s very pretty, though small, and I like to imagine you living there, cooking dinner in the tiny kitchen, curled on the sofa as you watch a movie. I wonder if you have roommates, or pets. I always wanted to own a cat. I hope you do too.

There’s just so much I want to learn about you, and yet… Maybe I am scared, after all. I think I wasn’t able to admit it to myself before, but now that I can, I see that I’m terrified. Not of the idea I have of you in my head, but of the one you do. I try my best to believe in the power of soulmates, and yet I am scared you wouldn’t want me in the same way I want you. The image of your arm around her won’t leave my head. It stopped paining me a while back, but it still doesn’t feel right.

Would it ever?

Sometimes I see you around, in strange places, and I’m not sure if it’s even real. Maybe it’s just your ghost, following me around like aftershocks of the earthquake that was your gaze on mine. Still, I hide from you: drop my groceries and leave the shop, turn to walk the other way when I see your back, run to alleyways, duck behind corners. How come I’m so sure and yet so worried? I could’ve sworn you should have noticed me tens of times already, and yet you never come after me.

“Is this what this is?” I can imagine you asking. “Is this you asking for me to run after you? To be braver than you are?”

I don’t know what this is. That’s the truth. I don’t even know if any of this makes sense, the rambling of my tired brain spilling out onto paper. I don’t know if I should try and make a case for myself, try and convince you that you should want me; would I be able to? Would it change anything if I threw this letter into your postbox, or is the future already set in stone? Your fingers wrapped around my wrist. My touch on your skin, wherever my name marks—is it all inevitable no matter what I do? Your heart already aware of how it should feel about me, even as all you know about me is my name and whatever you saw of my face in the dimness of winter night.

I was so certain of everything before, and yet ever since that night, I can’t sleep. This fear is something I have never felt. I can barely deal with it, but I think I have to—there’s no other way around this, is there? I can’t change your mind, if it has already been made up, and I can’t erase your name from my skin.

I think… I think I shouldn’t send this to you. I think I need stop running, and let the future be what it must.

I used to be so certain of things, and yet now all I’m sure about is that… I’m just tired, Minho. I think my body is waiting to sleep in your arms, and it’s getting bored of waiting.

Are you?

…

Tomorrow, I promise. Tomorrow I will look into your eyes again, and this time I will not turn around.

Yours, forever and ever,

Jisung

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah, i might write some more in this universe???  
> please tell me your thoughts tho uwu  
> you could also come talk to me on [twt](https://twitter.com/squishiesungie) or [cc!](https://curiouscat.me/squishiesungie)
> 
> also mb consider retweeting [ the tweet about my fic](https://twitter.com/squishiesungie/status/1245817392405590029)?


End file.
